


Tell me you love me

by Hello_Spikey



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Light BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-12
Updated: 2009-05-12
Packaged: 2019-10-29 21:34:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17815910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hello_Spikey/pseuds/Hello_Spikey
Summary: Spike's going to give Buffy what she wants, but only after he gets what he wants: a declaration.





	Tell me you love me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xc_runner50](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=xc_runner50).



> This is for xc_runner50 who asked for:  
> some DomSpike/SubBuffy, with Jealous Angel finding out Buffy will never be his again?
> 
> NC-17, rather PWP, no specific warnings, hope you like it, babe!

“You’re going to pay for this.” Buffy twisted her hands in the cuffs, tugging down hard on the chains. They groaned with the strain but held.

“I hope so,” Spike purred, and continued his slow, teasingly gentle examination of her. His lips passed over her skin, just close enough to brush the downy hairs of her navel as his hands stroked, caressed, and occasionally scratched. Her skin was hyper-sensitized, every touch feeling like too much and not enough. Spike crawled lower, and suddenly latched on to the crease at the top of her thigh, sucking hard.

Her body arched clear off the bed, held down only by her bound wrists and feet. “Evil! Vampires. Evil. Gah!”

He released her flesh with a loud slurp, dipping down to lick at the raised, hot bruise he’d left behind. “Like you’re complaining,” he chided, and his fingers dropped, just grazing over her mons, the lightest of touches, but she strummed to it like a guitar string. A guitar string that was ready to break. He held up his fingers so she could see the clear, viscous fluid on them, which he licked off with an appreciative groan and the most pornographic movements of his tongue.

Buffy strained against the restraints, trying to get her body closer to his, to get more friction where she so desperately wanted it. He laughed and slipped back, his bare cock brushing her thigh, just barely out of reach.

“Spike! If you don’t stop playing around…”

“You’ll what? Beg and scream and threaten?” He smirked and crawled down the bed, kissing and licking at her leg until he arrived at her ankle and bit, with blunt teeth, her instep. The pain sparked with ticklish pleasure, shooting along her nerves. He licked and kissed the whitened indent he’d left on her flesh. “That’s the point, love. Going to drive you mad with wanting me. Push you places you’ve never been before.”

She thrashed, but the best she could do is turn her hips a little. “This is torture!”

“Yes, love, and it’s all for you.” He licked her toes, smirking with pride at how she writhed and squealed at the unbearable tickle.

Buffy kicked, not caring that the metal cuffs were cutting flesh now, leaving trails of blood down her calves, which tickled even worse when Spike licked them up. Her hair was matted and sticking to her face with sweat. She twisted, trying to see if there was a bedside clock. “This hasn’t been one hour. You said one hour. It’s been eighty. You’re killing me.”

“That’s not how you ask nicely, slayer,” Spike chided, running his fingernails lightly up her thigh, and then hard down, raising pink tracks.

She sucked in a breath, unable to do anything but open and close her mouth a bit, like a fish, while the sensations warred in her nerves. He licked the scratches, mixing soothing, sexy, and stinging. He licked all the way up her thigh, and then lifted off, his lips passing so close to her aching, empty center that she felt the gentle puff of his breath. “Say ‘please’, Slayer.”

“Please!”

“Please what?” He braced his arms on either side of her hips, shoulders settling like a panther about to strike.

“Please… do it already! Before I die! From acute horny!”

His smile pressed his cheeks high, his eyes slit and glittering in amusement. “Now, pet, if you aren’t so far gone you can’t even utter a simple word like ‘fuck’, I don’t think you’ve had nearly enough.”

“Fuck!” She raised her head as far off the pillow as she could, glaring at him with her eyes wide and eyebrows raised. “FUCKfuckfuckfuck. NOW.”

He pressed his face to her navel, and she felt his laughter through her skin, his gentle breaths filling the small crevices of her bellybutton. He kissed her stomach and slipped a hand under her rump. “Now tell me you love me.”

“Right now I hate you.” Her hips jerked and twitched as his hands massaged her ass, holding her hard and keeping her from pressing herself against him. He pouted insincerely and rose a little further away from her.

Through gritted teeth, as though it was a curse, she said, “Yes. I love you.”

For a reward, he leaned down, just an inch off of her clit, and blew air on it. The bed groaned and plaster skated down the walls. “Now,” he said, not moving from where he was. “And I want to hear this loud, pet, say I’m the only one for you.”

“Blackmail,” she muttered, but then he flicked his tongue, oh so quickly, just touching her with the tip, and she was again taut as a wire. “I love you! Only you!”

“I’m the only one you want?” He casually stroked the cleft of her ass, which was slick with sweat.

“Yes!”

“There isn’t some other bloke you might like here?”

“Bastard! Jerk! Only you. I only want you. I want you now!”

Spike pretended to be considering hard. “Well, I don’t know, love. You haven’t said my name, how do I know who you’re talking to?”

“Spike!”

He shrugged, and crawled up her body to lick between her breasts. “Well, that’s a good start, but I could hardly hear you declaring your love and devotion. Think your screams earlier have affected my hearing.” He kissed one nipple then, which was still bright red and swollen from earlier attentions. She shivered as his gentle tongue awoke a tantalizing mix of sensations, tiny sparks of pain and a deep, throbbing need, she pressed up into his mouth, as though she could get her whole self into it.

“Spike,” she gasped. “Oh, Spike. Please. Please, I’m begging. I want you, Spike. Only you, right this instant and forever. I love you. Please, please…”

He let go of her nipple with one broad stroke of his tongue and moved to the other one, lavishing just as much attention on it.

“Come on! You know I mean it. I don’t say it all the time, but I mean it. Please. You. Need you. Want you. Spike!”

He met her lips, taking her pleas and cries into his mouth as he, at long last, sank into her depths, luxuriantly slow, all the way in as far as his weight and her straining hips could press, and then he drew slowly all the way out, until just the barest tip touched her, and rammed in hard. She gasped, a litany of begging tumbling out of her lips, half unheard or understood.

He kissed her again, their mouths dueling, hungry for each other, as he reached overhead and snapped open the wrist-cuffs. Instantly her arms wrapped around him and, freed, she moved with him, bringing them both more pleasure.

“Oh Spike,” she moaned. “Yes, yes, yes…”

Spike drew her up into his arms, shifted down the bed to free her feet, so she could wrap her legs around him, which she did, hungrily.

It didn’t hurt that this also put them a little closer to the window, where Spike knew they painted a pretty silhouette, and even with the beauty and joy in his arms, wrapped in Buffy’s warmth, he couldn’t help be a little pleased that Angel had been standing outside that window for about twenty minutes now.

He’d tell Buffy about that later. Maybe. He wrapped his arms tight around her. She was holding onto him like her life depended on it, and they were moving together, a dance they both knew by heart. He let her head fall on his shoulder and smiled at the window, catching just a glimpse of a dark eye between the shade and the sash.

“I love you too, pet,” he said, eyes still on the window, and then Buffy threw him down on the bed, and there was no talking after that.

The End


End file.
